


Everyday Mistakes

by Nary



Category: Diablotin
Genre: Adopted Children, Background Poly, Discussion of Abortion, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, M/M, Meet the Family, Multi, Shadar-Kai, Trope Bingo Round 3, Trust, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/pseuds/Nary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taz and Sabren visit his family in Diablotin, and many things are said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everyday Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Measured_Words for beta-reading and talking me through this!

“You could come with me, see where I’m from,” Tazenir had said casually, as if it was no big deal to travel to another plane of existence.

“Sure,” Sabren had replied, just as careless, as if going to meet the rest of his family wasn’t a huge step in their relationship.

The trip from Llorfir to Sarasagel was more enjoyable than she expected - it was so much time alone with Taz, she wasn’t quite sure what it would be like, but it turned out to be a great chance for them to learn more about each other. They shared stories and squabbled and made up and fucked their way across half the world, or at least that was what it felt like to her feet. In reality, the hike took less than a cycle - the route was becoming better-travelled now, with some enterprising folk beginning to set up waystations and inns along the way, so they didn’t even have to sleep outside all the time.

“It’s going to be pretty different,” Taz warned her on the last leg of the trip, before they reached the portal. “Maybe overwhelming at first.” 

“I can handle it,” Sabren told him, putting on her most blasé expression. “Colours, I’ve seen before.”

“Not like this,” he replied. “And people will stare at you.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Okay, whatever you say,” he scoffed. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “Things might be kind of awkward at points. I told you how my... father, San, we don’t really get along.”

“Well, it can’t be any worse than my clan,” she said grimly. “At least you’re still speaking to them.”

“Yeah. Most of them are okay. Xan you already know, of course. Dez will probably be around some, but he’s usually off doing his own thing, or being quiet. Em and Rhyl are here, so it’ll be less crowded than if they were all home. And, uh, Ilyana, she’s pretty quiet too, I guess. Reads a lot.” 

She remembered him mentioning that his parents had adopted a little girl after the rest of their children were grown. It seemed like a sensitive topic with Taz, so she’d never pressed him on it. 

“Mostly it’ll be my Mom and Dad who’ll probably have a lot of questions for you,” he continued, “but they’re not bad, just nosy sometimes.” 

As they waited for their turn to pass through the portal, Sabren started to feel queasy. She ignored it - stupid nerves, there was nothing to be scared of, it would be fine. They passed through without difficulty, but the sights and sounds of Diablotin swept her off her feet, as much as she tried not to show it. It wasn’t just that there were colours, but that _everything_ had colours, bright, dazzling colours that screamed at her eyes, exhilarating and exhausting all at once. After an increasingly uncomfortable few moments, she couldn’t help ducking behind a large painted sign of some kind and losing her last meal there. “Told you,” was all Taz said as she returned, pale and grumbling. “It’s okay if you’re nervous - I’ll be there.”

* * *

The study Taz's mother whisked Sabren away to, as a refuge from the still-ongoing chaos and arguing of downstairs, was decorated in muted shades of grey and white, with only a few hints of colour - the blue sky visible through the window, books on the shelves that were bound in brown or dark green leather, a child’s artwork done in orange and yellow paints stuck to the side of the desk. “Sit,” she told her firmly in shadar-kai, and Sabren didn’t have the energy to resist her use of the dominant mode. Her natural sense of rebellion seemed to have evaporated. She sat.

Dozilva drew the chair from the desk over to sit beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said more gently. “I had hoped your introduction to the family would be... smoother than that. We’ll give them a little time to cool off, and meanwhile we can have a talk, just us women.”

Sabren nodded slowly. “I knew Taz and his father didn’t get along, but...”

“Even when he was a child, it was so,” Dozilva sighed. “They are both very stubborn, and... Tazenir can be irresponsible, which upsets Sanadhìl, and he doesn’t tend to learn from his mistakes, which makes his father angry. And, in all fairness, Sanadhìl doesn’t always understand Taz, and he doesn’t like things he struggles to understand. Sometimes I think Tazenir is too much shadar-kai... too different from his father for them to see eye to eye. I had hoped that this time things might go better. Maybe they still can...” She sounded sad, though, and not overly optimistic.

“Can we still stay here?” Sabren asked uncertainly. 

“Of course,” Dozilva hastened to assure her. “You’re under my roof, and I give you guest-right here, for as long as you wish to remain.” She spoke as if she were a melath, the head of her own clan - and Sabren supposed in a way she was. Dozilva gazed at her steadily, and Sabren stuck her chin out, returning her stare. “What clan gives you shelter?” the older woman asked at last, the question that had gone unanswered when Taz had first introduced them.

“None,” Sabren said calmly, and watched for her reaction. At first her brow furrowed in confusion, surprise, and then a look of even deeper sadness spread over her scar-decorated face. “I left them,” continued Sabren, answering the next inevitable question before it could be asked. The _next_ question would probably be ‘why?’ but that she wasn’t quite ready to explain just yet.

Dozilva didn’t pry, but looked concerned. “It must be difficult, making your way alone like that. Were you very young?”

“In the last cycle before I would have left the olvir,” she said, forcing her voice to remain even and controlled. 

“I left home at much the same age,” Dozilva told her. “But at least I knew I had a home to go back to, if need be. And I wasn’t alone...”

“I’m not alone either,” Sabren bristled. “There are plenty of people like me, I have friends, I have Taz... we look out for each other.”

“Yes... it seems you do. For now. While you hold his interest.” She didn’t say it unkindly, but it stung anyway. 

“Or while he holds mine,” Sabren retorted. “We’ve been together for nearly a full turn now though. That’s a long time for either of us.”

Dozilva nodded. “Yes. And it is certainly true that for him to bring you here is... significant. Then again, for him to visit at all is significant. Tell me, is he still refusing to serve as a sire for our clan?” 

“Yes.” Sabren hesitated for a moment. “That... may be partly my fault. But I don’t think he was enjoying it anymore either.”

“It’s all right,” Dozilva told her. “The last I spoke with them about it, they made it out as though it was their decision because they wanted to keep him more exclusive - giving him some time off so that blue eyes don’t become too common, hah. As long as he’s not actively antagonizing them, it shouldn’t harm his standing for a while.” 

Dozilva stood, walking over to one of the shelves that lined the walls of the room, and retrieved a bottle, filling a pair of glasses. Sabren wasn’t sure what it was, but presumed it must be some sort of alcohol - pale, almost clear. When Dozilva passed her a glass, she took a hesitant sniff - and almost retched. The smell wasn’t even terribly strong, but something about it turned her stomach. She didn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t think she could drink it. To be polite, she took a tiny sip, unable to hide her grimace (although the taste wasn’t as bad as the smell).

Dozilva watched her closely, sipping her own drink. “So,” she said eventually, when Sabren set her glass down on the table, “how far along?”

“What?”

“How far along are you? Smells make you feel sick, you’re pale, tired... even for someone who just travelled so far. I guess a cycle, not more than two?” Sabren’s surprise must have shown on her face, because Dozilva’s smile faded into concern. “Did you not know? Or did you think you were hiding it well enough that no one would figure it out?”

“I... I’m not. I can’t be.” And yet it would explain so many things...

“Oh, I think you can - even if you were trying to avoid it, these things have a tendency to happen. Rather more often with Taz, it seems,” she added with a shrug. “Will you need help, with no clan to turn to when you go home?”

Sabren stood up, her legs shaky for a moment. “But... I didn’t... we didn’t want this.” But then they hadn’t tried very hard to avoid it either, she reflected, the dreadful realization sinking in. 

Dozilva held out her hand sympathetically. “Oh, my dear. Think hard before you decide you don’t want it - and be sure it’s your own decision, not his. But if that’s the choice you make, I can help you with that too.”

“I... I need to be alone.” Sabren’s hand was already on the door, pushing it open, stumbling back out into the riot of colour that was the rest of the house. But there was no place to be alone here, she realized as the raucous noises of other family members met her ears. Turning, she stepped back into the study, almost running into Dozilva. She burst into startled, angry tears, and didn’t resist when the older woman wrapped her immediately in her arms.

“There, there,” she murmured, rocking her gently as she might a hurt child. “It will be all right. Whatever happens, whatever you decide, you are strong enough to make it through this, and I’ll be here for you.” It had been so long since Sabren had believed anyone would protect her, support her unconditionally - but somehow she found with this woman, she wanted to. 

* * *

Taz no longer had a room to storm to in this house. Instead he retreated to the rooftop, where he and his brothers used to spend time in their own little world, away from their parents. Now it bore traces of other childrens’ toys and pastimes, but he didn’t want to think about that. It was quiet at least, and that was what he needed. Some part of him thought he should probably be with Sabren right now, but he was too angry with his father, and he didn’t want her to see him like that, or say things he might regret. Instead he sat down on the edge of the roof, leaning against the railing, his legs hanging over the side, and watched the people below until it made him dizzy. The sun was warm on his skin, and he closed his eyes, letting its unaccustomed heat and the light breeze start to ease away his tension.

He had almost forgotten how to tell time by the sun instead of the tides, but he thought maybe half an hour had passed when he heard someone else on the roof with him. Xan had climbed up the ladder, instead of teleporting or flying up like he always used to when they were small, leaving Taz to make the climb on his own. “Not being lazy today?” Taz muttered, but he didn’t really mean anything by it, it was just old habit.

Xan ignored the jibe, coming to sit beside him. “I have Solange with me,” he pointed out, carefully lowering himself down. “I can’t teleport with her.” The baby was sleeping soundly in the carrier strapped across Xan’s chest. It looked strange to Taz, unfamiliar, and not only because he had never expected Xan to have children.

“You could give her to Mom or whatever,” Taz suggested. 

“No, I couldn’t,” Xan pointed out. “One, she’s sleeping, and if I move her she’ll probably wake up. Two, Mom is busy taking care of your girlfriend. Three, she’s my responsibility anyway.”

Responsibility was just want Taz didn’t want to hear a lecture about, not from San, not from his brother, not from anyone. Seeing Ilyana, or even simple reminders of her presence like the toys, only served to drive the point home more cruelly. It felt like everything right now was designed to remind him what a failure he was - a failure as a son, a father, a person. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, hoping to avoid more arguing.

Xan frowned. “I wasn’t trying to criticize. I just wanted to see if you were okay.” He paused. “We really are glad you’re here... even Father, I think.”

“Hah. So he takes the first chance he gets to point out - in front of Sabren - what a waste of space I am?”

“He didn’t say that,” Xan sighed, making a visible effort to keep himself calm. “You’re reading that into his words because that’s what you expect to hear from him.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t expect to hear it if he hadn’t made it clear that’s what he thinks of me!” Taz’s voice was rising, and the baby stirred, making a little whimpering sound. Xan patted her softly on the back and she soon settled down again. He made it seem easy, natural. “Did you just bring her to make your point?” Taz asked bitterly.

“No, asshole, I brought her to meet her Uncle Taz. And to give Mercy a bit of a break - she has her most of the time.”

Taz looked down at the baby - well, at the top of her head, since it was pretty much all he could see. She was blonde and little and pink-skinned, like Xan. There was a noticeable lump under the fabric of the carrier where her wings were curled up. He couldn’t see her ears or her eyes, and didn’t want to ask. The poor kid would already have enough reasons for people to stare at her - ears that came to a point or odd-coloured eyes would be the least of her problems. “So,” he said eventually. “Does she call you ‘Dad’, or what?”

“She doesn’t call me anything yet,” Xan said with a half-smile. “But yeah, when she’s older... I hope she will, anyway, even if I’m not always around.” He didn’t belabour the point, for which Taz was grateful. “It’s pretty amazing,” he said instead.

“Pretty amazing that you had sex with a girl?” Taz smirked, nudging his brother in the ribs just to watch him squirm.

“Fuck you,” Xan replied, blushing. “I meant being a dad. Even if it’s not what I expected, or what the rest of the world thinks it should be like, she makes me happy.”

“Yeah, well... maybe it’s great for you,” Taz shrugged. “Some people are just good at that sort of thing, and some aren’t. You must get that from Dad, because it’s sure not from San.”

“I don’t think it’s something I was born with, I’ve had to learn a lot. You don’t know if you’re good at it until you try...” Xan began.

“But what if it turns out you’re not? By then maybe you’ve already fucked up a kid’s life,” Taz retorted angrily. The last thing in the world he wanted to find out was that he was as bad a father as his own had been. 

Xan frowned, struggling to his feet. “Once the kid’s on its way, or already here, and you have a choice of maybe messing things up, or definitely messing things up, it’s probably better to pick the first one.” He finally managed to stand up carefully without waking Solange. “Anyway. Dinner’s in an hour or so. Dez is already here, and Justen and Mercy are coming over.” Taz imagined he could hear the ‘try not to ruin this too’ in his voice.

He remembered suddenly the time when they were kids and he had pushed Xan off the roof because he’d been angry about... something, he couldn’t even remember what. Apparently he’d been an asshole even when he was a kid, he thought bitterly. He’d gotten into deep trouble over it, even though Xan hadn’t been hurt. But afterwards, San had come and talked to him, very calm and serious the way he spoke when he was really, really angry. He couldn’t remember all the details of their conversation now, so many years later, but the upshot had been that he was going to be allowed to start training as a warrior - as long as he promised to always take care of his family, and never hurt them. He’d promised easily then, when it had seemed as simple as ‘no more hitting your brothers or throwing them off the roof.’ Now, though, not hurting his family seemed like a far more difficult task - one he didn’t know if he was capable of achieving. 

* * *

Dinner was a somewhat awkward affair, with some of the participants barely speaking, and others talking more to cover for the occasional uncomfortable silences. When they spoke, it was mostly in Shadar-kai, for which Sabren was grateful. Her Aveyronnais was weak, and although she was trying to learn from Taz, he wasn’t the most patient teacher. Mercy, one of the guests, the mother of Xan’s baby girl, couldn’t speak Shadar-kai, but Taz’s father cast a spell on her to allow her to understand and communicate with the rest of the guests. Taz’s Dad (not his father, she had to remember to keep that straight) had plenty of questions for Sabren, some of which were more challenging to answer than she’d expected - how did they meet? where did they live? what did she do? She stumbled through those as best as she could, trying not to embarrass herself, or anyone else. She was grateful when Justen, Xan’s lover, stepped in to help with filling the gaps in the conversation - he knew the answers to at least a few of those questions, and had a vested interest in not having them discussed in great detail at the dinner table. 

The meal was probably delicious, but Sabren didn’t eat much of it, picking at her fish and the odd, brightly-coloured vegetables. Taz’s mother noticed her reluctance, and said, with a knowing smile, “Oh, I remember when I came here how strange all the food seemed to me. Here, at least let me get you some broth from the soup, that won’t be so bad.” She was right, at least - it was salty and savoury, close enough to the seaweed soup from home that Sabren was able to swallow it, and feet a little better afterwards.

The baby, which had been sleeping peacefully on Xan’s chest for the first part of the meal, woke up and began to cry. “She must be hungry,” Mercy said as she stood to retrieve the screaming child from Xan. Once Solange was back with her mother, and it was clear she was about to be fed, she soon calmed down. Most everyone else at the table ignored Mercy’s nursing her daughter, but Sabren couldn’t help watching surreptitiously. Mothers where she came from were respected for bringing new life into the clan, but then the children themselves were surrendered at a young age to the olvir, the communal living space for child-rearing. For a mother to care for her own child past the first few cycles or a turn at the outside was unusual in the extreme, but she knew that here it was typical, as was the involvement of fathers in raising young children. Taz had two fathers, which she was given to understand was unusual here as well. Sanadhìl was the one who had actually impregnated his mother, but Taz seemed to have a less-fraught relationship with the other man, Arek, whom he called Dad. Sanadhìl was just San.

After dinner, everyone - even Taz - moved to help clear the table and tidy things up. “No, you go ahead and sit down,” Dozilva told Sabren, who was unsure if she should help too, “you’ve had a long day, and besides, you’re our guest.” Similarly, Mercy was instructed in no uncertain terms that she should not lift a finger, although apparently her brother wasn’t exempt from the work. Mercy took the baby into one of the other rooms on the lower level of the house, so Sabren followed her, not sure what else to do. She watched as Mercy laid a blanket out on the carpet and set the child down on it, on her stomach. “She hates this,” she told Sabren with a smile, “but it’s good for her to get the chance to stretch her wings.” 

Baby Solange did indeed seem somewhat displeased with her position, struggling to lift her head up, pushing futilely with her arms and legs but not actually going anywhere. Her little wings, with their brightly-coloured feathers, spread wide and fluttered, trembling, as if trying to flap, but again, weren’t strong enough or coordinated enough to do much of anything. Taz had explained to Sabren about his family’s unusual background, and why some of them had wings, but it was still strange to see it in person. Mercy seemed perfectly used to it, though, settling down on the floor beside her daughter and ruffling her feathers where they had been smushed by her carrier. Feeling awkward, Sabren sat on a nearby chair, watching them together. It was almost impossible to imagine herself with a baby of her own.

“Is it hard?” she asked Mercy nervously.

“Having a baby?” Mercy glanced up at her. “Which part, the delivery or what comes after?”

“After.” She knew that giving birth was hard - it was the rest of it she wasn’t sure about. “Being on your own.” 

Mercy shrugged, adjusting one of the straps on Solange’s little dress that had gotten twisted. “Sometimes,” she said. “Xan and Justen are a great help, but they aren’t always here. I’m lucky that my parents are able to help sometimes as well, and my sister Jess, and Xan’s parents too. I have a lot of people around to share the work with when it gets to be too much.”

That was exactly what Sabren was afraid of hearing. It reminded her uncomfortably of the clans at home - raising a baby was too much work for just one person, it was something that needed the kind of support network she no longer had, or wanted. And even if it was theoretically possible for two people to manage it on their own somehow, she had no certainty that Taz would stay around either. Her friends... well, they all had lives of their own. Why would they want to give up their hard-earned freedom just to help her? 

Maybe it would be better to just make it like it had never happened. Taz’s mother had said she could take care of that... but then, Sabren recalled, Dozilva had also implied she would help if she decided to keep the baby. But even if that was true, what would it mean? Moving here? Uprooting her entire life? Would Taz come too? 

She realized Mercy was staring at her, probably because she hadn’t said anything for some time. “She’s very pretty,” she blurted to cover the awkward silence.

Mercy smiled, picking up Solange and setting her on her knee, bending over to kiss the top of her head. “She is, isn’t she? She looks so much like Xan in some ways - her hair, and her wings of course - but then her face looks a little like mine, too, I think. It’s amazing. I wasn’t sure I would ever have children, and it can be hard sometimes, but she makes it worthwhile.” 

Suddenly Sabren was crying and couldn’t stop, tears pouring uncontrollably. Mercy looked shocked and stood up hastily, balancing the baby on her hip as she came over. “Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you? I’m sorry!”

“No, nothing,” Sabren gasped. “It’s not your fault.” She got up, dodging by the other young woman. “I just have to... go to bed, I’m tired.” She escaped up the stairs and into the room they’d been given. Closing the door safely behind her, she was finally able to bury herself under the blankets and sob herself to sleep.

* * *

It took a little while before Taz noticed that Sabren had disappeared. “She went upstairs,” was all Mercy said when he asked. “I think she wanted to rest.”

“Okay,” Taz shrugged. It had been a long day, and he could understand the need for a bit of time alone to recuperate. He could have used some himself, but that didn’t seem likely to happen while he was home, at least not with the house so crowded. Instead, while his mother was busy fussing over the baby, and Xan was talking with Justen and Mercy, and Dad was trying to pry some sort of conversation longer than two words out of Deznir, he announced to no one in particular that he was going for a walk, and left. None of them tried to stop him.

The neighbourhood both had and hadn’t changed since the last time he was home. On each visit he noticed a few more of the old, run-down houses had been fixed up, or torn down entirely to have bigger, fancier structures built in their places. Their house, which when he was a child had always seemed like one of the better ones on their street, now looked a bit shabby next to newer constructions. But some things were still the same as always. The Down was still there, casting its shadow over the nearby streets. Taz barely noticed it - it was simply a fixture of his childhood home, looming and immovable and indifferent. Sort of like his father, he reflected grimly.

The sunsets were something he missed on the Shadow Plane, so he lingered a little while to watch as it gradually grew dark before finally making his way home. The house was quiet when he stepped inside - Xan and Justen and Mercy and the baby must have gone. The only person downstairs at the moment was Mom, who had some papers spread out on the dining room table and seemed absorbed in them. She glanced up just long enough to acknowledge he was home, giving him a slight smile before going back to her work. He appreciated that she didn’t ask him where he’d been, or try to get him to talk right now, just let him do his own thing as if it was normal for him to be there and he didn’t have to justify himself to anyone.

He headed upstairs, thinking that he might check if Sabren was still sleeping. He imagined her schedule would probably be thrown off for a little while, but he thought she might want to see what real night, with a moon and everything, looked like. Maybe she would feel a little less out of her element now that the sun was down. He walked along the hallway towards the room they were sharing, but was caught up short by the sound of San’s voice coming out of the room that used to be Em’s.

“...the girl meditated at the guardian spirit’s shrine, putting aside her own desires. And because her spirit was pure and selfless, the spirit bestowed its blessing on her. When she opened her eyes, she was clothed in a robe of golden silk with a cloak of blue feathers, finer than any princess, and on her feet were golden slippers…”

“Solid gold?” Ilyana’s voice was dubious. “Wouldn’t they be heavy, and cold?”

“They were magic,” San replied. “So they were actually very comfortable, even for dancing in. But I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow, it’s dark now.”

“But you promised tomorrow would be more of the book about abjuration circles!” the little girl protested.

“You’ll just have to decide which one you want to hear more,” San replied, but then sounded as though he softened a little. “Or maybe we’ll have time for both.” Taz tried to remember their father reading to him and Xan when they were small, but could only recall a few hazy memories of boring books about things he hadn’t been interested in, and nothing after Rhyl had been born, because everyone had been so busy with the new baby. He thought maybe Xan had kept on reading things with San, but mostly just borrowing things out of his library and asking him for explanations once in a while, not so much stories at bedtime. 

There was a creak as San stood from the wooden chair. “Good night, Ilyana. I’ll be just across the hall if you need anything.” Taz ducked back around the corner, hiding at the top of the stairs until San had left the girl’s room and disappeared into his own. He gave it a few moments after he heard the door click shut before making his way back down the hall, stopping outside Ilyana’s room. 

“You’re not being very sneaky,” the girl’s voice accused. “So you’re not Dez trying to scare me.”

He opened the door quietly. “No, it’s me. Uh, Tazenir. Taz, I mean.” She was sitting in bed, propped up with some pillows, a pale little figure in a white nightgown, her white hair tied in two neat braids, just staring at him. Taz had second thoughts, wondering if he should leave, but he was curious about the little girl. He studied her thin face in the light that spilled in from the hall, trying to see anything of himself there - or anything of any girl he’d known. Nothing about her seemed familiar to him, though he’d be the first to admit there had been some girls whose faces he couldn’t remember. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” he said to her.

“San only just finished reading to me, and I’m not quite sleepy yet,” she replied calmly. “When Mama comes up to go to bed she’ll check on me and I’m supposed to be asleep by then. But sometimes that’s pretty late.”

Taz nodded. “So, uh… does Dez try to scare you a lot?”

“He’s only pretending,” she scoffed. “He wouldn’t do anything really scary, he just likes to practice his sneaky stuff and I’m the best at hearing him, so he practices on me sometimes. When he’s around. Pretty soon he’ll probably move away like Em did, and it’ll be just me here.”

“Oh.” Taz had a momentary recollection of catching an eight-year-old Dez sneaking after him when he went out to some club, and threatening him within an inch of his life if he ever tried following him again. It was practically the last time he could remember talking with Dez for more than a few words. “Is that okay with you?” There had certainly been times when Taz would have wished for all his siblings to be gone when he was a child, desperate for some peace and quiet. He wondered if she felt the same.

“I miss Em,” she said, sounding a little wistful, but soon perked up. “But then I’ll have all the rooms to myself, that’ll be all right. Except the grown-ups’ rooms.” 

“Yeah… So they’re nice to you here? The grown-ups?”

She looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course they are, they’re my family. Mama and Daddy and San look after me, and I get to read all the books I want and eat good foods and they take me fun places like the Menagerie and… nobody picks on me here, because everyone is different.”

Taz frowned, concerned. “Do people pick on you out there for being different?” He knew well that kids could be cruel to anyone who didn’t look the same as them, remembered vividly getting into dozens of fights with the boys who made fun of the colour of his skin, his hair. He didn’t want her to have to go through that - he had hoped maybe she looked close enough to human that it wouldn’t be a problem.

She shrugged. “Em says it’s good to be different. I don’t mind it. Sometimes people say stupid things but I just ignore them.” She looked up at him, green eyes glinting in the moonlight. “Is it true you’re my actual father?”

He froze, startled. “Who told you that?” he prevaricated, playing for time.

“Nobody, really,” she replied. “I heard Mama and San talking about me one time, and Mama said something about how maybe if you hadn’t run away, then my birth mother might have been able to find you and I wouldn’t have ever gone in the orphanage, and San said you wouldn’t have said anything to them about that kind of problem because you’re too stubborn.”

Well, that certainly sounded like something San would say. Taz stifled the urge to take out his anger on this little girl. It wasn’t her fault, after all.

“And Em said some things,” she continued, “about how there’s me and there’s Tallix and we’re sort of alike in some ways, and sometimes I get to play with Tallix and I know you’re his father because everybody says so, even him.”

“He does?” That was news to Taz. He would have assumed that his name would be forbidden in the Rademacher house, and was shocked to hear that it wasn’t. “I… don’t know if I’m your father,” he told her truthfully. “But you already have Dad and San to be your fathers. Probably one more would just get in the way.”

“Okay,” she said agreeably. “It’s all right if you’re my big brother instead. Will you read the rest of my story to me? I’m not sleepy yet.”

Taz looked at the book San had left on the table beside the bed, with a bookmark sticking out of the page where he’d stopped. Feeling more than a little foolish and uncomfortable, he went and sat down, gingerly picking up the volume of fairy tales. “Was this where he stopped? ‘Now that she had a suitable gown, she could go to the Morning Star Festival…’”

Ilyana nodded, curling up on her side and making herself comfortable. “The story ends with her meeting a prince and getting married, but San changes it so that at the end she gets to go to school and learn to do magic herself. He says she can have her prince later, and that he’ll wait for her if he loves her that much.”

Taz couldn’t help but chuckle. That definitely sounded like San. “Well, I’m going to just read the way it goes in the book, if that’s all right. Maybe with some extra fight scenes.”

“That sounds good too,” Ilyana said, smiling.

* * *

Sabren woke up, disoriented. She had no idea for a moment where she was, only that it was dark. Someone was sleeping beside her - as she came to her senses, eyes gradually adjusting, she realized that it was Taz, snoring lightly, and relaxed a little bit at the familiar sound, the warm solidity of his body. Then she remembered what she hadn’t told him yet, and felt awful again. Also hungry, ravenously hungry. Slipping quietly out of bed, she crept downstairs, thinking maybe she could find something to eat in the kitchen without disturbing anyone.

She realized quickly that she had no idea where anything was in the kitchen, let alone what she might be able to prepare and eat quietly and quickly. She found a bowl containing some assorted fruit, and was just trying to decide if they were the sort of things you were supposed to eat raw and whole, or cut open and eat the innards only, or heat first, or what, when a voice behind her made her jump. “Can I help you?” It was Arek, Taz’s dad, standing in the doorway. He wore a comfortable-looking silk robe and his hair hung in loose curls.

“I was just looking for something to eat,” she stammered.

“You must be starving, poor thing,” Arek said sympathetically, speaking in her tongue as fluently as if it was his own. He addressed her in the mode that was reserved for family, which sounded odd, but she assumed perhaps he was used to using it primarily with his wife and children, as he had at dinner. “What do you think you can handle?”

“Anything,” Sabren said.

Arek gave a slight laugh. “You might feel that way, but if you choose wrong, it’ll just come right back up. I’ll get you something that should be gentle on your stomach.” He went over to a cupboard and opened the door to pull out some flatbread, wrapped in a cloth. He unwrapped it and tore off a sizeable piece for her. She couldn’t help cramming it into her mouth with an unseemly haste. It was soft and chewy and delicious, and she almost started crying while eating it.

Arek waited patiently until she’d swallowed the last bite. “More?” he offered.

“Yes, please,” she said. “It’s wonderful.” 

He obligingly gave her another large piece of bread, then went to stir up the embers of the fire and hung a kettle over it. “Some ginger tea might help too,” he suggested. “At least, it always did for me when I was pregnant.” 

Sabren coughed on her mouthful of bread, and Arek looked apologetic. “Dozilva told me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.” He sat down at the table and gestured for her to join him, which she did, only a little reluctantly. “So you just found out today?”

She nodded. “I didn’t really think it would happen… or I guess I just didn’t think at all.”

“Were you taking precautions to try and keep it from happening?” Arek asked.

Sabren looked down at the table. “Obviously not well enough. I was keeping track of my cycles and we tried to avoid times when it wasn’t safe, but...”

“But accidents happen.” Arek gave a shrug. “Especially where Taz is concerned, it seems.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you mind if I ask some questions about the two of you? About how things are going?”

“All right.”

Arek stood to get the supplies ready for their tea. “How long have you been seeing one another?”

Sabren wasn’t sure how to answer that, and not only because of the confusion over how they measured time here. “We met when Xan and Justen were visiting,” she said, evading the question slightly.

Arek nodded, reaching for a ceramic jar high up on one of the shelves.. “I don’t want to pry, so you can tell me if something is none of my business. Are you both seeing other people too?”

“Sometimes,” she replied cautiously. “Mostly just at parties and clubs, nothing serious.” She had been told that they judged these things differently here, but Arek didn’t seem too bothered by it. She wondered if he was going to ask her next if she was sure it was Taz’s child, but he didn’t. Instead he added tea leaves to the pot and got out two cups from the cupboard for them.

“Are you happy with him?” 

Sabren didn’t have to think about her answer. “Yes,” she replied. “He’s a good man. We have a lot of things in common. We both think the social hierarchy back home is stupid, and so we take care of each other instead of letting the clans do it for us. Sometimes we argue, but we’ve managed to work things out so far. He’s clever, and thoughtful, and he makes me laugh.”

Arek seemed mildly surprised at hearing his eldest son described in those terms. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said eventually. “We don’t get a lot of messages home from Taz, and we worry about him sometimes. But you think he’s doing well?”

“I think so,” Sabren told him. “He’s had some difficulties with his clan, since he said he wouldn’t sire for them anymore, but he’s making his own way. I’ve helped him get more settled in, while he’s figuring out more what he’d like to do instead.”

“Has he?”

“Well… not entirely,” she admitted. “He thought he might be good at being a bodyguard, but in Llorfir most people who’d want that sort of thing will go within their own clan for it, or maybe to some of the clans that specialize in combat. He’s Hlath, and they’re known for magic, not fighting. So it’s harder to convince people…”

Arek nodded, taking the kettle from the fire and pouring the hot water. “Has he said anything about maybe coming back here?” He sounded hopeful, but not overly so, as if he was expecting a negative answer and didn’t want to be disappointed. “Because there would certainly be that sort of work available in Diablotin, if that was what he wanted to do.”

“I don’t know,” she told him. “He’s talked about it a few times, but he always finds reasons why it would be a bad idea.” She looked up at Arek. “Sometimes he says it would be too hard to adjust to being back here, and people wouldn’t accept him because he looks different. Sometimes... it’s more about his father.”

Arek sighed as he brought their tea over to the table and sat down across from her once more. “Well, as to the first issue, I think things have changed here even since he left. There are more shadar-kai living here - not a lot, but more than just his mother. He would still stand out, but people are growing more accustomed to that sort of difference. The second, though… that’s more complicated.” He looked into the steam coming from his cup, as if it might hold any answers. 

“Why don’t they get along?” Sabren asked, wrapping her hands around her own drink to warm them up. “Taz has never really explained it to me.”

“I don’t know how much I can explain it either,” Arek said. “Partly, Sanadhìl is a pacifist, and he has never entirely understood Taz - even when he was little, Taz wanted to be a fighter, and it’s always been difficult for his father to accept that. As he got older, they disagreed on other matters too. Maybe we didn’t do a good enough job of protecting him from the people who would pick on him for looking different, for having a family that was strange, I don’t know. Taz dealt with it by getting into fights, and by gravitating towards girls who saw him as… I guess as interesting, dangerous, exotic, whatever. Some of those girls, Taz took advantage of - although I’d say there were some who were taking advantage of him, too.”

He took a sip of his tea, as if considering how to continue. “One girl, the daughter of friends of our family - her father was Taz’s instructor - she got pregnant. Taz… I suppose he panicked when he found out. He ran away, all the way to the Shadow Plane. We were all upset, but Sanadhìl was especially disappointed that Taz had behaved so badly, that he had refused all responsibility for what he had done.”

Sabren was puzzled, and Arek must have seen it on her face, because he paused to explain. “I know that for your people, fathering a child doesn’t include the expectation that you’ll necessarily be involved in raising it. But here, that’s more typical. I’m not saying it always works out that way, but it’s what society here says is right.” She nodded, so he pushed on. “Not that the expectations of society were what bothered Sanadhìl so much… For him it was more personal. He believes very much in taking responsibility for the results of your actions. And… he never knew his own parents. The idea of a parent not being there for their child, well, it particularly upsets him.”

Sabren listened, taking a sip of her tea. Arek was right - the hot, spicy liquid did seem to settle her stomach somewhat.

“That child, Tallix, he’s being raised by his mother and her family. It’s turned out fine… well, as well as we could have hoped under the circumstances. He’s a good boy, and we get to see him sometimes, so he has a chance to play with Ilyana.”

“Is she… well, Taz has said Ilyana was adopted.”

Judging by Arek’s frown and furrowed brow, there was more to the story. “We heard about her… a little girl with white hair. She was in an orphanage. Sanadhìl immediately felt sure she was another child of Taz’s. He tried to find out more, and even went to speak to Taz about it. That didn’t go well… He used a spell to try and pull the information from his mind when Taz refused to tell him. I don’t think Taz has ever forgiven him for that, but in Sanadhìl’s defense, he was trying to help a child who had been abandoned… he was very distraught. In the end, the three of us decided that we would rather take her in, raise her as our own, even if we couldn’t be completely certain Taz was her father, instead of leaving her there and always wondering whether we were wrong.” He smiled. “And she’s a wonderful little girl. We’re very lucky to have her.” 

“And she is lucky to have you, I’m sure,” Sabren said politely. All of this went some ways towards explaining why Taz was so reluctant to come home. 

Arek looked pensive. “I understand you may not have decided yet whether you want to carry this child. And it’s your decision, of course, I’m not trying to influence you. But… like Dozilva said, we will be here to help you either way…”

“I want to,” Sabren blurted. She hadn’t known she was going to say it until the words were out. “I just… don’t know what Taz will say, or whether I can do all this on my own if… if…” She couldn’t finish what she was trying to say, dissolving instead into tears.

Reaching out to take her hands in his, Arek waited until she had calmed down a little. “You need to tell him,” he said at last. “I don’t know what he’ll say either, but I think that showing him at least that amount of trust is important. Treating him like a mature, responsible adult is the first step to encouraging him to act like one. I hope he’ll rise to the occasion. But if he doesn’t… we will still support you, however you need.” He paused, as if considering. “Even if what you want is to go home and never hear from us again.”

“No,” Sabren shook her head, still gulping on her tears. “You’ve been very kind to me, even though you hardly know me.”

Arek squeezed her hands. “I hope we’ll have the chance to get to know you, Sabren. After all, we already consider you part of our family, and we’d be happy if you felt the same about us.”

* * *

Sabren tried to slip back into the bedroom quietly enough not to wake Taz. It was dark, but her vision was sharp and she avoided bumping into anything as she crossed the unfamiliar chamber and looked down to where he was sleeping. His brow was furrowed, as if even in his dreams he was annoyed about something. When she crept into bed beside him, though, it smoothed a little, and he moved unconsciously towards her, draping his arm across her waist. She hoped he would stay asleep, that maybe she could fall asleep too, and put off the necessary conversation until another time. But instead his blue eyes opened and he gave her a faint smile. "Everything okay?" he asked sleepily.

"I was hungry," she said. "Your dad helped me find some food - bread and tea. It was good. I feel better now." She knew she was just stalling, hoping that he wouldn't ask anything else. 

Taz nodded, giving her a kiss on the shoulder nearest to him. He drew her closer, and she could feel his growing hardness against her hip. She could have fucked him back to sleep and pretended everything was fine. Part of her wanted to do that, in case it might be their last time together - just to feel his hands on her and pretend for a little longer that nothing was going to change - but it would have felt like a lie. Instead she drew away from him, just enough to give them both some breathing room, and rolled over to face him. "We need to talk." 

"I know it's not easy being here - we don't have to stay the whole time if you want to go back home early..."

"No, it's not that. It's all right here, even if things are weird. Your family have been great. It's nothing about them, or about being here."

He got that furrow between his eyebrows again. "What's it about, then?"

She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself. "Taz, I have something to tell you. But I want you to listen to everything I'm saying before you..." She trailed off, not wanting to say 'get angry' out loud, in case uttering it somehow made it come true. "Before you tell me what you think."

He must have sensed it was something serious, because he nodded, propping himself up on his arm. "Go ahead."

"I'm pregnant," she said, more loudly than she meant to, trying to put courage into her voice. "I want to keep it," she continued more quietly. "And if you want to stay with me and help, then I'd like that. But if you don't, or can't, then... what we had was great while it lasted, but I'm doing this anyway. That's all." She waited nervously to see what he would say.

Taz looked like he'd just been poleaxed. He frowned, opening his mouth to try and say something, then closed it again. "Are you sure?" he finally managed.

"Pretty sure," she muttered. "It would explain a lot of things, anyway."

"How long?"

"I'm not certain," she said. "I guess a cycle or two."

Taz sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed so he could get up and pace. Sabren stayed under the covers, wishing he would come back, or at least say something to her. "What are we going to do?" he asked at last, and she took some comfort from the fact that at least he'd said 'we'. 

"I don't know yet," she said slowly. "We have some time to figure it out, though."

He kept pacing, still agitated. "Right. So we can go back home, and... and maybe when it's closer to the time, I can write and let my parents know..." 

Sabren bit her lip. "Actually," she began hesitantly, "your mother was the one who told _me_. I guess she saw the symptoms before I did."

Taz swung around. "She already knows? So they all do, she wouldn't keep something like that secret from them. Shit."

"Your dad knows, anyway," Sabren agreed. "When I was downstairs we were talking about it a little, and..."

"So everyone knew before me, great," Taz snapped. "I guess you all can decide what's best for me behind my back."

Sabren frowned. "It's not 'behind your back,'" she said angrily. "And it's not just about what's best for you - in case you didn't notice, there are other people involved here too. They weren't making any decisions for us, they were just trying to let me know that they would support me whatever I chose."

Taz gave a bitter laugh. "Sure, they'd say that. San's going to freak out, though."

"I don't know what San's going to think," Sabren said. "But if he sees that... that things are different this time, maybe it'll be okay."

Taz kicked at the leg of the bed sullenly. "It won't ever be okay with him, not really. He'll never understand, no matter what I do."

"Maybe not," said Sabren. "He doesn't have to. We don't need his blessing for this, if it's not something he can find it within himself to give. Just like I don't need my clan's authorization and guidance to choose a sire for my child." She reached out her hand to Taz, and after a moment he took it, holding on tight. 

"Your mom and dad said that if we wanted, they'd help us," Sabren told him. "That we could come here for a while, maybe..."

Taz gave her a dubious look. "You don't know what it would be like living here, looking different, having people stare at you all the time, shout things on the street. You don't know what it would be like for a kid who looks like me... like us," he corrected himself.

"Well, you don't know either," she retorted, remembering some of the things Arek had told her. "It was turns and turns ago that you were young, and things are bound have changed since then. There are lots of shadar-kai who come to the Colour Plane now, the humans must be more used to it than they were back then." She drew him back to sit beside her on the bed. "We don't have to make up our minds about that right away. I just need to know if... if you're staying with me for now."

"I want to," he said slowly. "I don't want to fuck this up like... everything else in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. So if this is what you want from me, I'll try. Even if it's kind of terrifying," he added.

That would have to be good enough. Sabren wasn't sure if she could have accepted more anyway - if he had sworn to stay forever, she might not have been able to trust that, but she could understand wanting to do his best. From Taz, that meant a lot. She knew that it was terrifying for him, because it was for her as well. "I'll try too," she told him, and hugged him close.

* * *

The next morning, Sanadhìl didn't come down for breakfast. He was cloistered in his study, and the rest of the family acted as if this was normal and expected behaviour on his part. Lunch also came and went without him making an appearance. Arek took some food up to him, but whether he opened the door for him or not, Taz wasn't sure. The longer San stayed away, the more certain Taz became that he was angry, but that Arek and Dozilva had convinced him to avoid making a scene.

That afternoon, he took Sabren out to see some of the nicer parts of the city. It was a good distraction from the tension at home, at least, and he was a little surprised at how many things it turned out he missed about Diablotin. Sabren seemed amazed and amused by turns, pointing at unfamiliar sights and making private jokes to him in shadar-kai. With someone else who looked like him by his side, it felt less uncomfortable to stand out in the crowd.

They decided to have dinner in one of the little restaurants that had sprung up in Rhenea since he'd been away. Although the waiter seemed surprised that Taz spoke perfectly fluent Aveyronnais, they weren't treated any differently than any of the other guests. By the time they got home, it was past dark, and Ilyana was being taken up to bed by Dozilva. There was still no sign of San, which either meant he'd left to go to the Castalia or the Antiquarian Society while Taz was out, or he was still brooding up in his study. Taz wondered if it was a test - if San was waiting to see whether he would come to talk to him, or keep on avoiding him. He probably expected the latter, which made Taz stubbornly more determined to do whatever San didn't expect.

Sabren and Arek were settled in the sitting room, talking about the events of the day, so Taz decided there wouldn't be any better time. He climbed the stairs slowly, hoping foolishly that San wouldn't be there so he could postpone this conversation a little while longer; so that he could say that he had tried. But when he knocked at the door, San's voice came from within. "Yes?"

"It's me. Taz," he clarified. "I have to talk to you."

There was a moment's agonizing pause before San replied, "Come in."

His father was seated at his desk, facing away from him. Taz felt like he was a child again, being called in to explain some misbehaviour and wait for punishment. He told himself that this time he'd come of his own accord, and he could leave too. He was an adult, and he was going to show his father that he was capable of acting like one. "I guess you probably know what this is about," he began slowly.

San rose and walked over to his reading chair, still barely looking at Taz. He moved a little more slowly than he used to, and Taz realized he was getting older - even though he still looked comparatively young, he wasn't. "Why don't you tell me," he said once he was settled in the more comfortable armchair, his voice even and calm for the moment.

Taz took a deep breath. "Sabren is pregnant," he said, doing his best to match his father's tone. "We're going to figure out how to make things work..."

"Clearly you already know how some things work," San replied, still with that infuriating calm. "I take it that you're not expecting to abandon her."

The statement was designed to provoke him, and Taz knew it, but that didn't make it easier to avoid rising to his father's bait. "No," he said curtly, cutting off a longer answer that would have struck back or at least tried to defend himself. He couldn't approach this like a battle, or it would become one. 

San tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair, but otherwise showed no outward signs of agitation or upset. Taz knew from long experience that that apparent calm often meant he was at his angriest. "What are you going to do once the child arrives? Have you thought that far ahead?"

"We're still making up our minds," Taz told him. "It's not only up to me. We have a few different options..."

"Options." San looked dubious. "Like moving back here so your parents can do your job for you."

Taz's body tensed, and for a moment he was ready to just turn around and leave, but he forced himself to stay. "Mom and Dad offered to help. But if it's going to involve you holding it over our heads forever, then no thanks. We'll stay on the Shadow Plane and I'll find a job there. We'll manage on our own."

"A different job, other than impregnating women?"

The implication, which Taz could hear perfectly well, was that he wasn't good at anything else. Taz had often thought the same thing about himself, but knowing that his father thought so too stung. "I'll be some noble's bodyguard, or train other fighters, or... or I'll haul rocks in the mines if I have to, I'm strong." He hadn't managed to do any of those things so far, but now he had a more pressing reason to try.

San's face went pale and he stood, walking over to look out the window, his hands folded behind his back. "So you'll go and get yourself killed, and your child still won't have a father." 

"I'm not saying that!" Taz snapped, then reined himself in with a struggle. "I'm saying that... that I'll do whatever I need to to take care of them. Isn't that what you want to hear? What am I supposed to say that would make you happy?"

"I don't know," San sighed. "Was this a mistake?" The question made Taz's blood boil - as if San had never made any mistakes in his life, as if conceiving a child without planning for it was the worst thing anyone could do, worse than hurting that child once it was born...

"It was... a surprise," he said at last, once he'd managed to get his temper back under control. "I'm trying to keep it from being a mistake."

San turned around to face him. His shoulders were slumped, and Taz thought some of the anger had gone out of him, although his face was still just as expressionless. "That wasn't what I was referring to," he said quietly. "But I can accept your answer, since it's one I've given myself. I hope you will succeed in this case, Tazenir." 

It wasn't until he had left the study that Taz wondered what his father had actually meant. He had the uncomfortable feeling that San had been asking if having him was a mistake, but he was reluctant to go back and ask in case he was right. This was the closest they had been to reaching some sort of understanding in as long as Taz could remember, and he didn't want to ruin it with too much truth. The sound of Sabren's voice from down the stairs drew him back from considering the matter too deeply. Instead of dwelling on it, he went back downstairs to join the woman he hoped was going to be the mother of his child - a child for whom he was now determined to be a father.

* * *

Arek practically jumped up when Taz entered the room. It was obvious that he knew precisely where his son had been, and wanted to ask him about how it had gone, but he held back for right now. Instead he said, "Maybe I'll see if your father wants a snack, since he skipped dinner," and left the two of them alone.

"He's going to ask San what happened," Taz sighed. 

"What _did_ happen?" Sabren asked uncertainly. 

"We talked," he said. "I... I think it went all right. More or less. Better than I expected, anyway."

"That's good, then," she said with a slight smile.

Taz sat down, taking the seat his dad had just vacated. "I guess it is." He sounded a little shocked still, but grew more resolute as he continued. "It made me think harder about what we talked about last night, and I realized something. I don't want to just try. I want to do this with you." He looked into her eyes. "We could get married."

Sabren frowned, staring back at him as if he'd just sprouted wings of his own. "You know that's not how we do things at home... We would have to do this twice more, and right now I'm not even sure if doing it once is the right decision."

"So forget how things are supposed to be! We can make our own decisions, we don't have to do what other people expect us to. I don't have to fuck things up like my father expects." He reached over to grasp her hand fiercely. "I love you, Sabren. I'm going to make sure that you and the baby are always taken care of properly, whatever it takes. I promise."

She looked down to their joined hands, silent for a long moment. "Are you just saying this because you want to prove San wrong?" she asked at last, her voice quiet and a little bit shaky.

"No!... Well, not really. Talking with him might have given me a push, but it's not the main reason."

Sabren shook her head. "It's the only thing that's changed since we talked before. I was happy with you saying you'd try. A promise as big as this... I don't know if I can trust it yet." His face fell, but she continued, even though she was trying not to cry. "I do love you, Taz. And I think that with more time, maybe I'll be able to accept what you're offering me. But right now I don't need a marriage or promises of forever - I just want your help and your support, if you can give me that when I need it."

There was a little voice at the back of Taz's head that said of course she didn't trust him enough - especially after meeting his family, learning how he'd failed as a father before, and seeing the kind of father he might become, why should she? But that wasn't being fair to her, he realized. She'd had a lot thrown at her in the past couple of days, and now she had still more important decisions to make, knowing that whatever she decided, the road ahead of her wasn't going to be easy. If she needed more time for her trust in him to grow, more tangible proof that he meant what he'd said, then he could give her that. "Yes," he said, "I'll try. Whatever you need."

The hug she drew him into pulled him out of his chair until he was kneeling on the floor before her, and would probably leave bruises on his arms, but he'd had worse - at her hands, even. They were only vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps upstairs - Arek having managed to coax San out of his study with the prospect of tea, Dozilva emerging from having read Ilyana a bedtime story. The ordinary evening murmurs of family, with all its flaws and imperfections and love, surrounded them in a comforting embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [naryrising](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/naryrising) if you want to ask questions, make requests, or chat!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Everyday Epilogue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1682867) by [Measured_Words](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured_Words/pseuds/Measured_Words)




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